


How to Say I Love You

by StrangeMischief



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeMischief/pseuds/StrangeMischief
Summary: Tony held the artwork, housed in a simple black frame, in front of his face. His eyes ran critically over the emerald, turquoise, and violet forms on the paper, a confused look on his face. “Are these…butterflies?”





	How to Say I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> As always, enjoy :3

_ How to Say I Love You _

  
“There’s just the four of them right now,” Doctor Parrish explained, dumping an armload of medical charts into Stephen’s empty hands. “Doctor Jakobson was supposed to have them all on her rotation until June, but she went on maternity leave early, and we can’t find a temp until then. You’re sure you don’t mind taking her patients?”

“Not at all,” Stephen replied with a shake of his head. His eyes quickly ran down the spines of the charts; the patient names printed neatly on the sides. _Kate. Jordan. Audrey. Connley. _Only four. It was a large downsize from his usual caseload downstairs in neuro. “It’s been a while since I’ve done peds work though, I have to admit.”

“Anatomy is about the same, just…smaller,” Doctor Parrish shrugged. “Personality, though. That’s where the big differences are. Any one of you brain junkies up there could do a peds _surgery. _But actually working with the _patients_?” Doctor Parrish paused and chuckled. “That’s what will make or break you, Strange.”

Stephen nodded thoughtfully, tucking the charts under his arm. “I’ll start rounds then,” he informed her. “I know one of mine from a few days ago is still up here. Kate?”

“Feisty blonde,” Doctor Parrish laughed. “Good luck with that,” she smiled, backing away in the direction of the elevator at the sound of her pager going off. “Oh! And Strange?”

“Yes, Doctor Parrish?”

“Indulge them if you can,” Doctor Parrish asked with a soft smile. “No matter how silly it seems, just play along. It’s hard for them, being here for so long.”

Stephen smiled warmly. “Of course, Doctor.”

\---

“Alright, Miss Kate,” Stephen chuckled, pocketing his penlight and pulling a lollipop from the depths of his pocket. He waved the sucker invitingly in front of her face and arched a dark brow. “How would you like to have a chocolate tootsie pop while I check under those bandages on your head? Sound like a plan to you?”

Tiny, sticky, four-year-old hands shot out, prying the sweet from Stephen’s hands greedily without a second thought. “Okay!” Kate chirped happily, sticking the lollipop in her mouth as soon as she freed it from its paper wrapping.

Kate’s mother chuckled softly from the bedside chair and lazily turned the page of her magazine, peeking up every so often to gaze fondly at her daughter.

Stephen busied himself with unwinding the bandages wrapped snuggle against Kate’s temple. Her craniotomy had gone smoothly, and in the days since the incision point had begun to heal nicely. She was right on track to have her stitches out in the coming week or so.

“No swelling. Very good,” Stephen remarked absently. “Has she complained of pain at all?” he asked Kate’s mother softly. “Headaches? Eye pain?”

“She’s always going on about it itching,” her mother replied with a groan. “I’ve tried telling her that sometimes the stitches will do that, and she just demands they be taken out.”

“Ah, Kate,” Stephen laughed. “They’re helping you get better faster,” he explained. He held his hands up and wove his fingers together in an attempt to demonstrate the purpose of the stitches. “The stitches hold the skin on your head together while it closes. Soon, it’ll be good as new. But _not _if you scratch.”

While her mother seemed appeased with the explanation, Kate was far more interested in other things – like Stephen’s watch.

Kate’s hand snagged Stephen’s, drawing it closer to her awe-stricken eyes. “That’s pretty,” she whispered in astonishment. Her caramel eyes raked over the silver timepiece. “Was it a present?”

Stephen blinked, thrown by the change in topic. “Yes, actually. A gift to say, _I love you._ From my…friend.”

Kate giggled and loosened her grip on his hand so she could move her lollipop to the other side of her mouth. “Did you say, ‘I love you,’ back to them? You’re supposed to, you know.”

Stephen thought back to when Tony presented him with the sleek black box. _To keep track of time_, Tony had explained. _To stop missing dinner_, he added threateningly. _Because I love you_, he declared proudly with a crooked grin. “I didn’t,” Stephen admitted, feeling somewhat ashamed at the confession. “It’s a hard thing to say sometimes.”

“I know what you should do,” Kate whispered excitedly, shifting closer so she could whisper in his ear. “You should throw grass at them! I do it all the time to Logan at preschool, and when I go back, we’re going to get married!”

Kate’s mother scoffed in good nature while Stephen laughed whole-heartedly. “I haven’t tried that one,” Stephen chuckled, deciding to take Doctor Parrish’s advice and indulge the girl. “Would it work? Do you think I should try?”

“Yes!” Kate gasped, pointing her lollipop at him. “Do it! Promise! Tell me when you do it!”

“I promise,” Stephen agreed.

\---

The Compound was lovely at sunset, and Stephen always found it peaceful to stretch out on the grass with Tony and watch the sun sink behind the tree line.

Or, rather, Stephen _usually _found it peacefully.

“Peter’s going to give me a coronary,” Tony sighed, slamming a fist onto the ground again to emphasize his frustration. “He’s chasing after some winged creep who wants to sell Chitauri tech on the black market. It’s not simple stuff, Stephanie! These are big dogs! And the kid says he thinks he might know who it is, and you _know _if they find that out, they’ll throw him in some deep dark hole at the bottom of a cold, wet-”

Stephen sighed, tuning out Tony for a moment to admire the way his tanned skin glowed in the golden hues of the setting sun. He was captivated by the twinkle in his eye as he spoke at length about something that was important to him. He was beautiful. Passionate. Stephen loved him. Deeply so. But he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t take that risk, not yet.

And so, he kept a promise to a four-year-old instead, and ripped a fistful of grass up from the ground beside his thigh, taking care to aim for Tony’s face.

“And he _still _won’t tell May, and if _I _tell her then I’m the bad-” Tony stopped abruptly, sputtering as blades of grass rained down on him and slipped into his mouth. “Did you…did you just throw _grass _at me, Stephen? Why would you do that?”

“You’re going to give _yourself _a coronary,” Stephen replied smoothly, throwing another handful at Tony. “Peter’s a pretty smart kid, Tony. I don’t think he’d jeopardize his own life. Besides, Karen and FRIDAY are keeping tabs on him, aren’t they?”

Tony nodded reluctantly, grass raining down into his lap with the movement. “Yes, but-”

Stephen leaned forward, silencing Tony with a brief kiss. “Peter will be fine. And you…you have grass behind your ear.”

\---

It had been a few days since Stephen informed Kate that yes, he had thrown grass at his “friend,” and, no, they were not getting married yet. The blonde seemed disappointed with his progress but placated that he had at least tried. Time moved forward, and Stephen let thoughts of Tony and love confessions slip from his mind.

But children were meddlesome creatures, and that would not do.

“Doctor Strange?” a timid voice called from the depths of the small mountain of blankets piled on the bed Stephen stood before.

The doctor’s head popped up from the chart he had been writing notes in, clearly surprised to see his young patient awake at such a late hour. He squinted through the darkened room and stepped closer, trying to pick out the hidden form of his patient. “You’re awake, Jordan? Is something wrong? Are you in pain?”

Jorden pulled the blanket obscuring most of his face away and shook his head no. “I wanted to know if you really threw grass at your friend like Kate said? Because I don’t think you should! That would make him mad!” Jordan’s rounded face was dark with worry as he continued. “My mommy is upset when _I _throw grass.”

“Ahh, a good point,” Stephen conceded, placing the chart back at the end of Jordan’s bed. “What would you suggest, then? Something a bit more tame?”

Jordan’s lips quirked to the side as he thought of his answer. “Oh!” he exclaimed, features brightening, “I know! Make him a finger painting! I did that at school for Valentine’s Day.”

From across the room, a condescending scoff could be heard. “Finger paintings are for _babies_,” his roommate, Audrey, a curly-haired brunette, sighed with a roll of her azure eyes. “Doctor Strange is a _grown up, _Jordan_. _He needs to do _grown-up _things.”

“Like what?” Stephen asked, turning over his shoulder to spare her a thoughtful glance.

The girl, who was just over ten if Stephen remembered her chart correctly, tilted her head in thought. “My dad brings my mom these big orange flowers she likes with little mushy cards on them all the time. Then they both sit around and talk about how much they _love each other._”

“Do mine, Doctor Strange,” Jordan insisted. “Flowers are _girly._”

“Flowers are _romantic,_” Audrey rebuked. “Finger paintings aren’t.”

“I like _both_ ideas,” Stephen offered diplomatically, moving towards the room’s door. “And I’ll do my best to try each one of them _if _you both go back to sleep now. It’s far too late for _me _to be awake; let alone either one of you.”

\---

Tony held the artwork, housed in a simple black frame, in front of his face. His eyes ran critically over the emerald, turquoise, and violet forms on the paper, a confused look on his face. “Are these…butterflies?”

Stephen chuckled softly from the other side of the loveseat, his amused gaze unwavering from Tony’s scrunched expression. “Yes, isn’t it obvious? Just look at those wings.”

Tony snorted and shot Stephen an unamused look. “…And did you make them with your…fingers?”

“Of course.”

“You made me a finger painting?” Tony asked dubiously. He looked back down at the framed art, brows knitting together as he stared at the sea of butterflies filling the paper. “You, Stephen Strange, a middle-aged man, made a _finger painting_? Of butterflies?”

Stephen’s lip twitched, and he did his best to feign his feelings being hurt. “What’s wrong, Tony? Do you not like it?”

“No-I mean yes!” Tony rushed to explain, actually looking a bit panicked. “I do! It’s just...not what I’d expect from you. I guess you really are strange, Stephen,” he teased with a smirk.

“I…” Stephen mumbled, lost in the endless sparkle of Tony’s chocolate eyes. _I love you. _“I’m glad you like it,” he finished with a soft smile, earning him a chaste kiss from Tony.

\---

“They’re beautiful,” Tony grinned, fingering the burgundy tulips tenderly. He gently placed the bouquet on the kitchen counter and turned to dig through a cabinet for a vase to place them in. “What’s the occasion? Did I forget something?”

“No occasion,” Stephen shrugged. “I just…” _I love you, Tony. So much. _“I saw them on my way home from work and thought of you.”

\---

It had taken two doctors and six hours, but Stephen could proudly stand before Connley’s parents and declare that their son’s brain tumor had been completely removed. Six hours, and rather than ride the high of a successful surgery well into the night, Stephen wanted nothing more than to go home, scrub the hospital smell from his skin, and fall into bed next to Tony so he could finally doze off to the soothing sound of Tony’s gentle snores.

But first, had had to drag himself down to post-op and check on Connley.

_Connley. Home. Shower. Bed. Tony. _Stephen dragged his aching body upstairs and wove mindlessly down the halls to where Connley’s bed had been rolled. _Connley. Home. Shower. Bed. Tony. _His eyes raked over the boy, skipped to his various monitors, and settled on the chart hanging from the foot of his bed.

_Connley? Check. Home. Shower. Bed. Tony._

“Where’s my mommy, Doctor Strange?” Connley croaked tiredly, voice still thick with anesthesia. “I need…I need my mommy.”

“Shh, everything’s okay,” Stephen soothed in a whisper. “I was just by to check on you before I go. I’ll go find your mother and tell her you’re awake, but she can’t come here. When you’re back in your room, she’ll be there waiting for you.”

“I need her,” Connley mumbled stubbornly, eyes already fluttering shut as he was dragged back under the depths of various medications once again. “Before bed…. you say…I love you. It’s important.”

Stephen’s head tilted as he mulled over the boy’s words. “You’re right; it is important. We should always do that,” Stephen reaffirmed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “For now, just rest. Nap. We won’t say it’s bed just yet.”

\---

Tony jerked as the bed dipped behind him, and he craned his neck over his shoulder to squint blearily into the darkness. “Steph? That you, babe?”

“Yes, Tony,” Stephen’s baritone voice assured him tiredly. “I’m home.”

“Mmmm,” Tony hummed sleepily, shifting closer, so his back was pressed against Stephen’s chest. “Good night. Love you.”

Stephen dropped an arm over Tony’s side and rested his chin on his head. “I love you too, Tony.”

“Hmm?” Tony grumbled, mind dancing on the recesses of consciousness.

Stephen laughed around a yawn and pressed a lazy kiss into Tony’s disheveled hair. “I’ll tell you in the morning. I promise.”


End file.
